


i live a life with you i could have never imagined possible

by froggieyama



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, No Dialogue, Relationship Study, Secret Relationship, unbetad we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25708594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggieyama/pseuds/froggieyama
Summary: keiji and kiyoomi. the world may never know what they mean to each other
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 51





	i live a life with you i could have never imagined possible

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bxmddream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bxmddream/gifts).



Kiyoomi feels as if his life is in two parts. With Keiji, and without.   
  
He doesn’t remember that first press of skin, the first connection of lips, the first desperate gasp to fall from Keiji’s mouth. Usually, he remembers everything, but it was different with Keiji.    
  
Keiji fit so perfectly into the space in Kiyoomi’s life. His hands were warm, his skin was soft, his voice was low and settled in Kiyoomi’s bones. He could draw things from the depths of Kiyoomi’s soul that had never showed before. 

His mysophobia has not gotten better. He still hates the touch of his teammates and the people in the street; he worries that his food is out of date, the surfaces he touches haven’t been cleaned recently. Walls as thick as his don’t fall in a week, a month, a year. They take a lifetime to construct, a lifetime to carefully detach and place elsewhere. He’d tried to date before. Atsumu was the last one before Keiji. 

  
But despite their affections for him, it was far too much. They wanted to get to his core, to be able to pry his walls down in heated passion and expect him to lay bare for him. Atsumu was better, but eventually, he grew impatient.  _ Why can’t you just let me kiss you _ , he asked, the night they broke up,  _ do you not trust me? _   
  
Keiji treats him as if he is an answer to the universe’s questions, an artifact so long kept away from the harshness of the world. His hands find Kiyoomi’s curves, the jut of his bones under skin pulled taught, the tiny cracks in his facade that give him imperfection.    
  


Keiji has made a habit of connecting their skin, forcing Kiyoomi’s body to  _ arch _ , to heave, to shudder. Kiyoomi does not believe in heaven. But if it were real, it would never be better than seeing Keiji laid on the bed before him. 

Sometimes, Kiyoomi comes home to Keiji in their kitchen. He’s humming something Kiyoomi never recognises, cooking something Kiyoomi only vaguely identifies. Keiji greets him with a nod. Kiyoomi, in return, finds his place behind him, arms loosely wrapped around Keiji’s warm waist and chin on his shoulder. 

_ How was your day _ is not spoken; it never is. Kiyoomi presses a trail of kisses along the curve of Keiji’s neck,  _ better now that I’m home with you _ .

Sometimes, Keiji is already asleep by the time Kiyoomi gets home from practice. He works hard, often sacrificing his sleep for his job. Kiyoomi runs his fingers, gentle, through the now-curly mop of hair on Keiji’s hair. Some of the curls get caught but detangle without complaint. Keiji looks so human like that, asleep and drooling a little on his manuscripts, but it’s only another reminder to Kiyoomi that he’s not lucky.    
  
Keiji isn’t some angel who graces Kiyoomi with his presence. He’s imperfect. He’s rough around the edges. But they’ve made it work. They’ve found a space in the universe for them both, they’ve worked for the experiences they share, and Kiyoomi thinks it is what allowed him to fall.    
  
Falling in love sounds terrifying. Kiyoomi hates heights. But it was a slow fall without fear, and a soft landing. He landed in Keiji’s arms, in the warm confines of another body, and it was worth everything he’d been through.

For every shouting match with an ex, there is the whisper of Keiji’s voice in the mornings. For every touch he had not wanted, there is a look from Keiji, a  _ is this okay, love _ before they get lost in each other. For every confession of affection, there is silence from Keiji. They do not need words, they do not need passion; they need protection from the world and the comfort of another body next to them. 

_ I love you _ , Kiyoomi does not say. 

_ I’m glad I have you _ , Keiji does not whisper.

_ Keiji _ spills from Kiyoomi’s lips when he refers to the other man, even when he doesn’t mean it.   
_ Kiyoomi _ finds itself scribbled on sticky notes in Keiji’s office, surrounded by rough, imperfect hearts. 

The world does not know of their relationship, of what happens behind closed doors. Of the gentle click of the lock lost under the gasping of desperate breaths, of the collection of keyrings Kiyoomi has brought home, of the manuscript titled  _ To Be Yours _ tucked away, safe in Keiji’s drawer.    
  
What they do see is two men who seem nothing more than acquaintances. Meaningless conversations, a poignant space between their bodies, the occasional glance that means nothing. 

  
Keiji shifts in his sleep, pressing his cold nose against the bare expanse of Kiyoomi’s chest. He’s drooling a little. It’s gross. Kiyoomi loves it.    
  
He decides that he’s happy with the world being oblivious, just for a little while longer. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to lou (bxmddream on twitter) for giving me the yearning energy to write this. 
> 
> follow me on twitter at froggieyama if you wanna scream to be abt akasaku
> 
> kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!!


End file.
